


{a brief moment for tired eyes}.

by PassionsPromise



Category: Jurassic World (2015)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:59:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4325862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PassionsPromise/pseuds/PassionsPromise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amber Run: I Found.</p><p> </p><p>Owen Grady finds where he belongs, a place to rest his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	{a brief moment for tired eyes}.

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble. Drabble. Drabble.

For as long as he could remember, he was always in search of a place to rest his head. In the warm embrace of his mother, under the covers when she died, in the arms of one lover after another, even in the sounds of his friends’ snoring in the bunks as the war fires continued on. After leaving the Navy and finding solace in his research, Owen Grady found sleep in the strangest of places, amongst the strangest of people, amongst the strangest of creatures. _Dinosaurs._

 

 

There were always nightmares; bombs, gunfire, screams, agony, blood-

(And always, _always_ the words _“This is just a dream, just a dream, just a dream-“)_.

 

 

But even though those words, those images, woke him in the darkest of nights, he found comfort in knowing exactly where he was, what he was doing, who he was doing it all for. To say that he loved his work was a joke; he **_was_** his work, one whole part of a whole part, and everything he ever did banked on the next day, the following week, the miraculous changes that came the ensuing year. Everything he studied, observed, worked for, all banked on him, and him alone.

 

Barry was the one who started the joke about him being a velociraptor before the velociraptors ever came along. But, even when the they first hatched, his heart still pounded like a jackhammer. They needed to be reared from birth; what if he didn’t do it right? What if they ended up killing someone? What if his research ended up going down the drain because of a fluke theory, a mistake, an unsolvable problem in their genes? All those years of dedication and hard work, coming to Jurassic World and almost begging for a job…

 

 

 

_What if none of it made any **difference?**_

 

 

His mind whirred on thoughts that broke sleep and worry and constant recalculation. Thousands of _what-ifs_ were replaced by millions of questions he couldn't ever answer because the nature of an animal wasn't the same as human nature and everything banked on an idea he had while he walked the skylines and flew across treacherous depths in order to reach a home that wasn't his.

 

But it did, though; all of his efforts eventually found themselves curled up on the floor of his home. Only three weeks in, and already, all four of them were the size of small dogs. They destroyed everything, and they ate everything, and they sure as hell didn’t like staying inside the bungalow for hours at a time, never mind days (Delta hated storms; Blue was entranced by the colour red; Echo listened to Simon and Garfunkel, and Charlie had a soft-spot for chocolate mice). They were hyper; they were annoying; they would drive him up the wall between spaces of five-minute intervals.

 

But when darkness fell they, just like him, grappled their claws through darkness in order to find their way to his bed, to curl up around him, to warm his bones when his body couldn’t move, when the tiredness was unbearable and the constant research, reading and observing, were too much.

 

They heard his retreating footsteps, his slow, defeated fall onto the mattress. They followed without a wicker, or a bark, or even a growl. He didn’t need a duvet, not when they were small enough to still fit into his bed and could heat a room within seconds, not when they were still this young and could walk through the doors easily. They slept alongside him, close to his head, and when their softened breaths matched his, Owen Grady found that everything, all of his work, was worthwhile.

 

He only noticed that the nightmares disappeared a few days after the raptors moved to the enclosure. His dreams were peaceful, calm, his body rested, relaxed.

 

It was in that one moment, watching each of his raptors as he spoke to them from his place over the enclosure, that Owen Grady found where he needed to be.

 

 

He finally found a place to rest his head.

 

 

 


End file.
